Mr Underhill, My Foot!
by XxXxSlytherinPrincessxXxX
Summary: Aragorn, a Ranger, heir to the throne of Gondor, a descendant of Isildur. Isn't that all that there's to him? Apparently not, he and Arwen shared a secret that they had to keep for nine months, until they could finally get rid of it. Or did they?
1. The Prancing Pony

**Mr. Underhill, My Foot**

Chapter 1 – **The Prancing Pony**

The Prancing Pony. That's when I saw him for the second time in my whole life. He strode in, well, more like waddled in, with his three companions by his side. They were soaking wet and their hoods drooped over their heads. The four Halflings took their hoods off and I got to really see him, his angelic face, scraggy hair and pale skin. It was clear he got his skin and lips from his mother, but his hair and eyes definitely came from me.

He approached the Inn-keeper warily and tried peeking over the table.

"Ex-Excuse me?" His voice wavered.

The Inn-keeper looked around in surprise; he peered over the desk and saw four little hobbits staring up at him.

"Good evening, little masters. If you're seeking accommodation, we got some cosy Hobbit-sized rooms available. Mister...?"

"Underhill. My name's Underhill." He stuttered.

What the-? Underhill? That isn't the name Arwen and I agreed on. I thought we gave him to the Bagginses...hmm, very odd.

The Inn-keeper looked at him curiously. It was obvious that he thought of the name on the spot, after all, what kind of a name is Underhill? Even for a Hobbit.

"Underhill, yes." The Inn-keeper nodded his head.

"We're friends of Gandalf the Grey. Can you tell him we've arrived?" Wait, what? Gandalf never told me that he was acquainted with my little boy.

The cheek of the wizard, he could've at least dropped by once in a while and tell me how my own son was doing. Then again, he probably didn't think I deserved to know, since the only part of his life that I've been involved in was the 'giving up' part.

"Gandalf?" He cocked his head to the side, thinking to himself. "Gandalf..." He repeated. "Oh, yes, I remember. Elderly chap. Big, grey beard, pointy hat." He nodded and smiled to himself, then shook his head. "Not seen him for six months."

Frodo looked at him as if he was mad. He was so sad, so crestfallen, the sight of him made my heart melt. He glanced away at his friends.

The chubby one, I later came to know was Sam, leaned forward.

"What do we do now?" He whispered, but loudly enough for me to hear.

Frodo looked around and then gestured to an empty table, thankfully only a few feet away from where I sat by the window, smoking my pipe.

The two other Hobbits went to the bar and brought back four drinks. Frodo took it gratefully and turned to his gardener.

"Sam, he'll be here. He'll come." He was so hopeful, so determined.

One of the Hobbits, the one I assumed was the more sensible one, left the table and came back with a huge cup filled to the brim with bubbles. He was concentrating very hard on not tipping over the almost over flowing cup, yet still managed to let it swish to the side. So much for sensible.

The attention of the Halfling sitting next to him was immediately aroused. "What's that?" He asked with way too much curiosity.

"This, my friend, is a pint." The 'sensible' one looked at his little companion greedily.

"It comes in pints?" His eyes widened. Idiot, of course they come in pints. "I'm getting one." He said to Frodo and his gardener.

"You got a whole half already!" Sam shouted after him.

Frodo looked after his tiny figure disappearing amongst the hordes of drunks, forcing himself not to laugh at how out of place the little Hobbit looked, surrounded by fully grown men who were towering over him.

The blonde Hobbit, sitting next to Frodo, nudged him and pointed at me.

"That fellow's done nothing but stare at you since we arrived." _Ed' i'ear ar' elenea_! Am I that obvious?

Frodo guardedly turned his head towards me. I exhaled deeply out of my pipe and a ring of smoke emerged out of my mouth, lingering over my face and then vanishing into the air.

The Inn-keeper passed the _Periannath_ but was stopped by Frodo's outstretched arm.

"Excuse me," Frodo looked up and the Inn-keeper knelt down. "That Man in the corner. Who is he?"

The owner of the Inn risked a quick glimpse at me and his eyes widened for split second. He turned back to Frodo cautiously.

"He's one of them Rangers. They're dangerous folk, wandering the Wilds. What his right name is, I've never heard, but around here he's known as Strider." He nodded and walked away.

Brilliant. The first thing Frodo hears about me is that I'm an _andelu __Taur'ohtar_. Who also happens to like staring at Hobbits. Wonderful.

Frodo gazed at the carvings on the table. "Strider," He whispered to himself.

I watched carefully as his eyes slowly drooped down, I glanced at his hands and stifled a gasp. So it was true. The Ring, the _One_ Ring, really was in the hands of a _Perian_. It was in the small hands of _my_ son. He fingered the golden ring, absentmindedly. I could see the index finger on his right hand creeping closer to the Ring; he was going to wear it. Well we can't have that.

Suddenly his eyes snapped open when one of the _Periain_ who had gone to get a pint said: "Baggins? Sure, I know a Baggins."

Frodo's head whipped around to his Hobbit friend sitting on a stool much too high for him at the bar.

"He's over there. Frodo Baggins." He turned and gestured towards Frodo with his pint.

My son's eyes widened as the idiot _Perian_ continued talking about him. "He's my second cousin, once removed on his mother's side...and my third cousin, twice removed..."

Frodo jumped up and pushed his way through the crowds. Then realisation dawned on me, he isn't any Underhill, he stayed a Baggins. But he was disguising himself. And now the stupider one of the _Periain_ was blowing his cover. I removed the pipe from my mouth as I watched him bustle through the Prancing Pony.

"Pippin!" He cried and grabbed the Hobbit's arm. Unfortunately he clutched onto the arm that was carrying his pint and it sloshed over.

"Steady on, Frodo!" Pippin yelled, evidently annoyed at losing even a small amount of his drink.

Frodo tripped on someone's shoe and fell back, his left hand flung in the air, his palm stretched outwards. And then, right in front of my eyes, the Ring flew up, out of his hand. I lurched forward, suddenly aware that at the precise moment, _anyone_ could've turned around and snatched the Ring, and the world of man-kind would fall.

Everyone around Frodo turned to look at the fallen Hobbit just in time to see him stretch out his index finger and let the Ring slip onto it. He vanished. Despite the fact that almost everyone in the Prancing Pony was drunk, they had enough sense in them to know that disappearing like that was just about impossible, they all gasped.

The mouths of the three other _Periannath_ dropped open and their eyes widened. Dear god, it wouldn't be long till the _Úlairi_ came, they would've sensed Frodo putting on the Ring.

He vanished for about 20 seconds before returning to sight again. His back was against a wooden post, his breathing was heavy and his head whipped from side to side as if expecting someone to attack him.

I sighed. He couldn't keep doing this, he couldn't be so reckless. Someone had to set him straight, and who else better to do it than his own father?

I grabbed his left shoulder and dragged him to the wall. My hood was draped very low over my head; the only visible parts of my face were below my eyes.

"You draw far too much attention to yourself, 'Mr. Underhill.'" My foot.

Clutching onto his shirt, I lifted him with ease and pushed him up the stairs into a room in the corner. He dropped to the floor and rolled across it for a while before straightening himself up.

"What do you want?" He said with dignity and clear stubbornness. No doubt a trait he inherited from me.

I turned from the door after slamming it closed. "A little more caution from you. That is no trinket you carry."

"I carry nothing."

"Indeed." I walked to the window and put out the candles with my bare fingers. "I can avoid being seen if I wish, but to disappear entirely, that is a rare gift." I whipped off my hood, showing myself to him properly.

"Who are you?" Frodo asked carefully.

"Are you frightened?"

"Yes."

"Not nearly frightened enough, I know what hunts you." Of course, that's not exactly what I really wanted to say. But I couldn't very well blurt out 'its okay, you can trust me. I'm your father. Yes, I gave you up at birth and your mother used Elven magic to turn you from an Elf-Man to a Hobbit, only because it's the easiest conversion and we weren't allowed to keep you.' Like that was going to happen.

The door burst open and I whirled around, my hand instinctively pulling out my sword.

"Let him go! Or I'll have you, Longshanks." Sam shouted with naught but his stubby little hands, which were balled up into fists, to protect him. The two _Periannath_ by his side bore either a metal ornament with three lit candles on it or a chair.

I sighed and lowered my sword back into its case.

"You have a stout heart, little Hobbit. But that will not save you. You can no longer wait for the wizard, Frodo." Saying his name gave me a warm feeling, I have never felt more regretful in my life for giving him up then I did at that moment. I walked to him. "They're coming."

By Frodo's expression, I assumed he knew that I spoke of the _Úlairi_.

I ran down to the main bar and booked two rooms under the names 'Baggins' and 'Underhill'. Hopefully, the _Úlairi_ will take the bait and, being crazed and driven by the call of the Ring, will abandon their senses and head straight for the room signed under 'Baggins'.

I waited for the surprised Inn-keeper to pass me two keys and I ran to the false Baggins room. As professionally as I could, on the four beds, I put stuffed pillows under the quilts to make it look like there were actually Hobbits sleeping there. Satisfied that my work would fool even the damn Nazgûl, I left the room and returned to the room in which Frodo, Sam, Pippin and the other not-so-sensible-one were gathered around the fireplace.

I heard a thud far away from the Inn. They were here. With wide, but forcibly controlled eyes, I ushered them into bed and sat by the window.

Just as their heavy breathing turned into snores, the door of the room that I booked under 'Baggins' was banged open and four Nazgûl sauntered into the room. Each of the Black Riders went to a bed, all of which had very believable fake 'Halflings' underneath the duvet. I stared out the dirty, fogged up window into the room opposite mine.

I saw a flurry of black cloth and feathers scatter across the room. And then there was screeching. Lots and lots of screeching. Enough even to wake up the Hobbits that lay sleeping in the beds next to me. Frodo sat up, followed by Pippin and the other one, whose name was apparently Merry.

"What are they?" Frodo asked, his arms crossed over his chest.

"They were once Men." My son looked at me disbelievingly, I don't blame him. "Great kings of Men. Then Sauron the Deceiver gave to them nine rings of power. Blinded by their greed, they took them without question. One by one, falling into darkness." I glanced out the window, watching as the frustrated and agitated _Úlairi_ left Bree, convinced the Frodo must've already moved on. "Now they are slaves to his will."

I turned back to Frodo. "They are the Nazgûl. Ringwraiths. Neither living nor dead. At all times they feel the presence of the Ring, drawn to the power of the One. They will never stop hunting you." It pained me to say it, and there was so much more I wanted to say. But I refrained from adding that there was no need to look so scared, they was no reason to be frightened, he was in good hands.

But in truth, there was a reason to be scared. Frodo's life was in danger. But there's no chance in hell that I'd let any harm come to him. At least, I convinced myself that I could protect him from getting hurt, until Weathertop happened.

**AN:**  
So there it is; the first chapter to the first LOTR fan fiction I've ever written. As of now, the story is just a recap of the exact scene in the Fellowship of the Ring just so you know where this starts from. You've probably figured it out by now, but anyway, the story is written from Aragorn's POV and it's about him seeing Frodo for the second time. And this is 'important' because, well, Frodo is his son. His and Arwen's son. Everything will be explained in the next chapter!

Reviews are much loved!!!

xx


	2. Selindë of the House of Fëanor

**Mr. Underhill, My Foot**

Chapter 2 – **A Knife in the Dark and ****Selindë of the House of Fëanor**

I don't even know why he had to go put the damn Ring on. I can understand he was scared, seconds away from possible death. But he knows that the more he puts it on, the more tempted he'll get to make it a regular thing.

Then again, I sort of have myself to blame. I was the one who left them. I was the one who suggested Weathertop in the first place. I should've known that the old watchtower of Amon Sul wasn't nearly enclosed enough. I left to 'look around' at night, even when I knew that there were _Úlairi_ on our tails. I'm just thankful that I had enough sense to give them swords.

I don't know how I managed to miss the squealing of the _Nazgûl_ when they saw the fire, but when Sam started yelling 'back you devils!' I just assumed that they were faced with the _Úlairi_ and so I ran, as fast as I possibly could. And then I heard swords clashing, that's when I started to panic. There is no way four little _Periannath_ could stand against five _Nazgûl_.

I ran into the watchtower just in time to see Frodo take off the Ring and scream; a Morgul blade inches away from his heart. My eyes widened and anger flared through me. There is no way I'd let them out of my sight before they're closer to death then they've ever been before.

I slashed my way through the Wraiths, setting them to fire with a torch and slashing through their black clothes with my sword, trying to cut as deep as I was able. I eventually managed to rid the watchtower of the five deadly ring-wraiths, but the damage was already done.

I failed. Frodo got hurt. On top of that, he was stabbed by a _Morgul_ blade of all things; the wound was well beyond my skill to heal. I had to take him to the Elves..._Seldarine_, that would be awkward. I could just picture myself walking into Rivendell, carrying Frodo, approaching Lord Elrond, my foster father, and saying to him 'Hey, this is your grand-son. I know I never told you about him, but neither did Arwen. So please think better of me, I simply didn't want to anger you.'

As carefully as I could, I placed Frodo over my shoulder and commanded the Hobbits to follow. Sam, ever the optimist, had to go and put in it his brilliant thoughts.

"We're six days away from Rivendell! He'll never make it!" Like I'd let my own son pass away and become a Wraith. Overly and quite frankly, unnecessarily, annoyed at Gamgee, I told him to go look for the Athelas plant because it could weaken the poison and give Frodo a little longer.

But of course, Sam being Sam, I had to break it down to 'Kingsfoil' until he remembered that is was a weed. I gave him a torch and went looking for it too; I had just found the little white flowers when I felt a cold blade at my neck. And then the most beautiful, melodic voice whisper into my ear.

"What this? A ranger caught off his guard?" Oh, she'll never let me hear the end of this.

Her chipper attitude drastically changed when I told her exactly who I was protecting.

"Elaevyan? You found Elaevyan? Wait, you let Elaevyan get _hurt_?" Her voice faltered. "What must I do?"

"You have to get him to your people, if you can cross the river before the _Úlairi_ reach you, the power of the Elves can protect him." I replied.

"What of my father? What of _our_ father? Do you think he'll be welcoming to the thought of a grand-son he never knew? A grand-son that should never have existed, mind you."

"But he does exist, and there's nothing we can do about it now but protect him. It's the least we can do for him."

She thought for a moment. She walked to Frodo and knelt down, stroking his forehead.

"Who is she?" I heard Pippin hiss to Merry, clearly not liking a stranger looking after his friend.

"She's an Elf." Sam said, clearly enchanted.

Then again Arwen of the House of Elrond gave people much reason to be enchanted. Her beauty, her grace, her voice. She picked him up and carried him to her white horse. I followed and before she got a chance to mount her horse, I took her hand.

My eyes gave away my feelings.

"He'll be fine, Estel. I do not fear the Wraiths. I swear no harm will come to him. I swear on my immortality."

"Well, actually, you can't swear on something that is no longer yours." I slid her fingers to the silver jewel that was around a chain on my neck.

"_A'maelamin_, I will not fail. Trust me." Her eyes glistened.

"Arwen...ride hard. Don't look back. _Amin mela lle_."

She smiled and bowed her head, then flung her leg up and jumped on her horse so she sat behind Frodo whose head was hung low and his eyes where a pale white-ish kind of blue. She urged her horse on in Elvish as I stared after her, hoping to God that she cared about Frodo as much as I did.

I have no idea how long I was out for. It only felt like a couple of hours, but when I woke up and saw the tired worn-out look on his face, I knew I had been unconscious for days.

He looked like he hadn't combed his hair or (over-grown) beard for days, then again, he probably never did. But he honestly looked worse than I've ever seen him before. Yet somehow, he still maintained that majestic, proud, honourable, determined expression that he never seems to be able to take off.

He's exactly the kind of person I aspire to be someday, but maybe minus the aversion to bathing and neatening his hair.

My eyes fluttered open completely and I heard him breathe a sigh of immense relief.

"Ar-Aragorn?"

"Yes, Frodo?"

"Ugh, never mind. I can't be bothered so speak, I feel so weak."

"Yet you found it in you to say all that."

I managed a wry, fail of a smile. "Where is she? How am I healed?"

He stiffened for a second. "She?"

"You know, the woman. The beautiful one. She was the one who brought me here, wherever here is, right? I want to thank her. I don't really know what happened, but I sort of feel in my heart that I wouldn't be here if it hadn't been for her."

"No, you wouldn't be here at all." He looked to the side; he muttered the words so low that I almost didn't hear him. "I mean, she's a much faster rider than me, one of the fastest I know actually. She's probably one of the few who could save you."

I nodded, but I knew there was a hidden meaning. "Did she heal me?"

"No, that was her father. Lord Elrond of the House of...well Elrond. He is a very pronounced healer."

"Elrond? Wait, isn't he an Elf?" My eyes widened. "I'm in Rivendell, aren't I?" I said excitedly.

The Ranger smiled. "Yes, Frodo Baggins. You are."

"And it's 10:00 on October the 24th." A serene female voice said behind Aragorn.

He suddenly grew very still.

"What? Don't you remember me, _Estel_?" She said in a mocking voice.

A wide grin spread across him face and his shoulders relaxed. But his back stayed turned to her, forcing her to come into view.

"_Creoso a'baramin_, Elaevyan." She smiled one of the most gorgeous smiles I've ever seen, then a thought crossed my mind; _isn't Elaevyan an Elvish name?_

"Elaevyan?" I asked.

"Yes, well –"

Aragorn shot her a warning look.

"Never mind." She said cheerfully.

She had long wavy blonde hair that almost reached her waist. Her ears were, obviously, pointed, but sharper than I thought they would be. Her eyes were slanted and her thin yet somehow full lips were a light shade of pink, they went well with her pale yet wondrous skin. She seemed like a nice enough person.

"Frodo, this is Selindë of the House of Fëanor." Aragorn introduced us, he emphasized my name.

With as much strength as I could muster in my frail body, I extended an arm towards her.

"We've already met." Selindë said as she shook my hand.

"We have?"

The blonde Elf looked at me curiously. "Oh wait, sorry. I forgot, you weren't conscious."

Strider shook his head. "Don't mind her, she's one of the most..._carefree_ and, well, 'can't-be-bothered' types of Elves." He rolled his eyes, and then suddenly remembered something. "But not all Elves are like her. Most tend to be more poised, graceful and mature. It's normally a trait that's passed down; unfortunately she got her father's genes."

"Watch it, 'Strider'. If not for me and my father, where would you be right now? Under lectures from your foster-father. That's where."

"The only way you got me out of those is because you annoyed him so much that he just stopped trying eventually. He almost banned me from Arwen once 'cause of you."

"Arwen!" I suddenly yelled.

Aragorn and Selindë looked at me like I was mad.

"That was her name! The woman who saved me! Can I see her?"

Selindë looked at Aragorn and mouthed something, to which Aragorn started jabbering in Elvish. It sounded like:

"_Mankoi lle irma sint_?"

"_MANKOI_?" She demanded.

"_Uuner uma, n'dela no'ta_."

She shook her head. "He has a right to know, Estel."

"_Auta miqula orqu_."

Selindë's eyes grew wide and her mouth turned into a snarl. "Take it back." She growled. He had obviously offended her.

Aragorn sighed and hung his head. "I know, okay? I _will_ tell him."

"You better." She turned to me and smiled. "_Saesa omentien lle_."

"Um, you too?" I guessed.

"He doesn't know Elvish, Selindë."

There was a mischievous glint in her eye. "I know."

And she walked out of the golden room.

**AN:**  
I know it's short, it's just a bridge between the first and third chapter. If anyone would like to know the meaning of the Elvish phrases, just ask and I'll post them in the next chapter!

XD


	3. The Elven Language

**Mr. Underhill, My Foot**

Chapter 3 – **The Elven Language**

**AN:** This isn't exactly a chapter; it is just the translations for the past two chapters. From now onwards, I'll just post the translations and the end of each chapter!

Chapter 1 translations:

English _Elvish_

By the sea and stars! _Ed' i'ear ar' elenea_  
Dangerous Ranger _andelu__Taur'ohtar_  
Hobbit(s)/Halflings _Perian/Periain/Periannath_  
Nazgûl/Ringwraiths _Úlairi_

Chapter 2 translations:

God _Seldarine_  
Frodo _Elaevyan_  
My Beloved _A'maelamin_  
I love you _Amin mela lle_  
Aragorn _Estel_  
Welcome to my dwelling _Creoso a'baramin_  
Why do you want to know? _Mankoi lle irma sint?_  
WHY? _MANKOI_?  
No one does, don't worry about it _Uuner uma, n'dela no'ta_  
Go kiss an orc _Auta miqula orqu_  
Pleasure meeting you _Saesa omentien lle_

Summary for **Chapter 4 – Arwen**

Frodo is told a secret, one that he finds hard to keep. And he discovers friends in the most unlikely places and is told more secrets that are even harder to keep. Aragorn battles with Lord Elrond after revealing to him the disgraceful truth. Arwen and Selindë don't exactly see eye to eye and blood is spilt, then Aragorn has to interfere.

It will be out soon! (Hopefully)

XD


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